RP:To Be Fair, He Blew Up Her Ice Cream

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

Part of the Mearcstapa Arc

Summary: Gorehilt goes out of his way to visit Chartsend, a decision he will probably come to regret. He and Reginae have an altercation in the market after Cinderback (Gorehilt's nightmare mount) blows up her ice cream. The fight ends quickly, and in Reginae's favor. Gorehilt and Cinderback are both kidnapped and taken to Alithrya.

Market

Reginae 's meeting with Math and Kanna had been roughly a week ago now. After that lovely situation had resolved itself, she found herself eager to go back to Chartsend and see if she could procure any other interesting oddities. Besides being a collector of odd personalities, the naga had found herself in a recent love affair with the iced cream Mathollak and Kanna had so kindly offered her. Which made the Market the perfect place to stop. Though she's well known in Chartsend from years ago, Regi still dons a humanoid disguise for it's ease of mobility. Her snowy hair is bound in a heavy braid which ran the length of her spine. Her attire consists of flowy white pants and a gold shirt made of a similar material. In both hands she's holding two different ice cream cones, both of which are familiarly dripping down her hands and wrists to dot the ground. This is just how Math had looked. She must be doing it right. As of yet, nothing of interest had happened beyond the leaky iced cream in her possession, but there's always a chance for things to change.

Gorehilt trots Cinderback through the open market, trying to absorb his surroundings. Sure, he loved to throw his weight around and knock heads, but discretion is the better part of valor, right? That, and who knows what kind of impression he'll need to make out here. Just because he's a long way from HQ doesn't mean he's beyond the reach of consequences. Better go with the old "dark and mysterious" look until he has a feel for the town. So, he and Cinderback have their best byronic faces on as they pass through, towering above the crowd and the vendors. There's ample sundries and capable hawkers, but Gorehilt is doing well ignoring them. Cinderback, on the other hand, is marginally less disciplined. Seeing Reginae and her ice cream, the flaming nightmare can't resist a bit of mischief. Cinderback's fiery mane flares. The pretarnatural stallion nickers and shoots a little gout of flame from its nose, a tiny flaming toroid that spins through the air like a smoke ring. It strikes one of the ice creams with a flash and a puff, instantly melting it. Cinderback snickers, but perhaps he shouldn't have. The equine laughter catches Gorehilt's attention. He looks suspicously down at the horse. "You what?" The rider accuses, not yet knowing what his mount has done or why, only knowing that no good can come of that sound. "Don't play dumb." Gorehilt glances around, trying to get ahead of the trouble and spot what his horse may or may not have just done.

Reginae's half way through the first cone, having deemed the more familiar orange flavored thing Kanna gave her as preferable, when the flame horse's errant snort of breath evaporates both cone and creamed ice she'd intended to devour. Or let melt in her hand, she hadn't truly decided yet. Looking at her now empty hand, Reginae attempts to process what's occurred. Is there an expiration time on these things? Do they vanish if left alone for too long? It's the snicker of Cinderback that draws her attention to him. She tilts her head to the side, trying to figure out what in Aramoth's name he was, before looking back to her half finished cone. Did that fire horse just eat her ice cream? Without further prompt, Reginae lobs the remaining cone at Cinderback's face without flinching. If that animal wanted a treat, it needed only ask.

Gorehilt figures out what has happened about the same time Reginae throws her ice cream. It hits Cinderback in the middle of the forehead and sticks, cone straight out like a unicorn horn. Cross-eyed, the horse glances up at the cone. "Whoa, easy," Gorehilt begins. Cinderback does not take it easy. Indignant, incensed, the horse rears and neighs. It incinerates the offending cone. Flames crawl over the horse's coat, blazing up from Cinderback's mane and tail, from its hooves, from its eyes and nose and mouth. Magically unharmed, Gorehilt shields his eyes from the flaring light of the blaze with one hand, still holding the reigns tight with the other. Around them, the crowd murmurs with alarm and parts, making room for the foreign rider and his unruly stallion. "Hey! You're gonna get us thrown out," Gorehilt chides more sternly this time and gives the reigns a disciplinary tug. The horse settles on all four hooves, but not before glaring daggers at Reginae. Gorehilt follows the look. "Hey sorry, lady," the half-orc apologizes, even if he sounds kind of annoyed with her too. He smooths Cinderback's neck a bit and sits up so he can look down his nose (what little he has of one) at her. Young and in his prime, the greenskin knight hasn't known enough of life yet to be humble in a moment like this. He's all swagger and, by his carefully groomed hair and his gold tusk, by his well maintained armor and obvious hygene, he's image conscious. "Just what were you doing, just now? You threw something at my horse."

Reginae watches the cone land with a smirk of satisfaction. The horse is enraged, the wafting heat sending surrounding customers to give them space. Lucky for the trio, Chartsend guards don't have much experience in dealing with flaming horses or ice cream fights. They linger passively on the outskirts of the crowd to further assess the potential threat. Is that lady actually fighting a horse? The disguised naga takes a wider stance, as if she expects the beast to rush forward in it's rage, but it's rider calms the steed at long last. "Your majesty." She corrects him with a venomous tone. She judged him to be young, his carefully put together appearance a mark of youthful vanity. Every being around them looks on edge. His question is met with a quick snick of her tongue. Wasn't that obvious? "Your horse? Hard to tell it's tamed." Azurite eyes assess his armor, should it come to blows it could cause a problem. "Acts more like a wild beast from where I'm standing."

Gorehilt misses Reginae's cue. He grins, a little embarassed for her, and shakes his head. "Lady," he holds up a palm, "I'm just a 'sir,' not a 'your majesty.'" He'd be flattered, but by her tone, she didn't mean it as a compliment. "Yeah, alright, easy with the uppity uppity." The knight's eyes narrow. "Here, I'll buy you your lil' ice cream, and we'll call it square, alright? And clean yourself up." After a second of rummaging on his person, he procures a gold coin and a handkercheif. "C'mon." With a patronizing smirk, he leans down to offer her both. "It's a little melted ice cream. No biggie, right?" Cinderback won't even look at her. Haughtily, the nightmare turns away its head and snorts a puff of acrid, sulfurous smoke.

Reginae squints at him. "I'm not a lady!" She spits, enraged by this patronizing tone he's addressing her with. Her blood practically boiling by the time he leans down to offer the coin and handkerchief. A halo of black encases her icy blue eyes as she reaches up with a pained grimace to take them. Her hand bypasses his fingers, using her height to grab for his wrist instead. Her fingers shift into barbed ropes that attempt to coil tightly around his arm and pull him off his equally rude horse, into the dirt.

Gorehilt furrows his brow at the sight of that peculiar black halo, but it's too late. All he can manage is a brief, startled cry before he's unceremoniously unseated. His boot catches in the stirrup on the way down. The effect? When she throws him to the dirt, he lands face first, one leg in the air behind him, still stuck to his horse. Cinderback, who had not appreciated Gorehilt's conciliatory offer to the snow-haired woman, snickers again, this time at his unfortunate rider, and does not lift a hair to help him. Gorehilt, for his own part, grits his teeth against the pain of the fall and twists a bit. First he kicks his foot free of the stirrup. The rest of him falls. His back half lands with a metallic clatter, not unlike the sound of his front half falling a second ago. "Whatever, lady." Gorehilt spits out some sandy dirt and a bit of blood with it. It might have been accidental before, but this crazy broad is "lady" until the end of time as far as Gore's concerned now. He pushes to a knee, but when tries to tug his arm free of the ropes, the barbs prevent him. "You get attached quickly, huh?" Reaching up with his free hand, he gropes for the end of his spear, still fastened to his horse with his other belongings. The weapon wiggles a little, as though it wants to fly into his hand. "I haven't even bought you dinner yet. Let's take it slow, huh?"

Reginae belts a laugh when the orc's top half clatters to the ground. She eyes the horse, who snickers, and wonders if she'd misjudged the animal. Cinderback doesn't seem particularly troubled by his rider's plight. The attempt to call her lady again is met with an eyeroll. As if he had the right. Asinine. His senseless chatter falls on deaf ears as she flicks her wrist, trying to send him flying into one of the canvas backs of the many stalls. Her barbed fingers stay latched on his wrist until she feels the vibration of resistance. Or a landing. Preferable as far away as possible. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot." She says to Cinderback, Gorehilt forgotten even if he fell short of her intended target. "Hoof?" Then again, why is she trying to reason with this thing? She could just as easily wrap this horse up like a Yule gift and drag it back to Alithrya for the sport of it. It was an interesting thing, this flame horse.

Gorehilt flies off, carried by the grasping, vine-like fingertips, but not without snatching the haft of his spear in passing. It slides out from its safely stowed, hide parcel wrapping with a musical "schinggg" that trails after Gorehilt as he is thrown bodily through a vendor's tent. Pots and pans fly noisily to and fro, and the general hubbub surrounding the fight erupts into an uproar. Realizing their moment has long past arrived, the guards blow their whistles and start trotting into the fray, toward the fight. "Man, I am sorry, are you okay?" Gorehilt reaches a hand out to the startled vendor, "help me up, bro. She's crazy, I know, right? Yeah, threw me right through it. No, I've never seen anything like it." While Gorehilt is getting to his feet and spinning his side of the story, Cinderback notices Reginae's attention. The nightmare might have gotten a laugh at his knight's expense, but that doesn't mean he's keen to buddy up with the naga queen. The horse blows a yellow, heavily sulphurated smoke ring right at her face. Whether it finds it mark or not, the horse then turns to start trotting away from the situation altogether. And if Reginae approaches the horse from behind? She might or might not be surprised by a swift kick from a flaming hoof. Cinderback isn't in the mood today.

Reginae 's taken little notice of the guards at this point. Her face is full of smoke. She coughs, the foul smell encompassing her view for a beat too long. She stumbles forward, likely trying to talk sense into the unruly horse. She only misses the kick because she stoops to hack up her lungs. His hoofs fly overhead and this continued obstinance is drilling on her last nerve. "All I wanted was some ice cream, maybe an amusing juggler. I'd have settled for another cat..." She mumbles, flicking her re-barbed vine like fingers up and out to grab at the steed. The market was too crowded to drag away a person or horse from the chaotic spoke of this affair. Guards are now advancing in her direction and the flame horse's owner looks to be back on his feet. Quite the pity. Illusions it is. Any contact with Cinderback would render him immediately invisible to any who tried to perceive him, lest they have a keen eye for such tricks. Cinderback himself would find any barb that touched him to be laced with a sedative meant to subdue him peacefully. If Gorehilt attempted to intervene, he'd be greeted with the same fate should he come in contact with her vines.

Gorehilt is rolling his shoulder and warming up his spear arm, falling naturally in line with the guards and getting ready to team up with them, law against chaos. The half orc knows this song and dance pretty well by now, and he's glad to be on the legally favored, less liable side this time. Some of the guards are shouting for Reginae to stand down, and though Gore has the sense to keep his mouth shut, he shares their unspoken confidence that this whole situation is about to wrap up, one way or another. In a way, he isn't wrong. "Hey!" When Cinderback vanishes, Gorehilt jumps forward, spear flashing. "You dirty cheater!" Advancing against the onslaught of fine, flexible tendrils, he can only make it so far before one of the envenomed barbs prick his bare skin, and he falls unconscious. Unbeknownst to the knight, his vanished mount is still nearby, but as helplessly unconscious as himself. The frightened guards try to press inward, but none of them want to be struck down as easily as the greenskin just was. Is he dead? They don't know. They're scared to find out.

Reginae watches both Gorehilt and Cinderback 'vanish', putting the cherry atop her sundaed victory, temporary or otherwise. Now all that was left was to clean up the mess with the guards. The Queen stands and dusts off her clothes, her height intimidating even for the range of guards that were hesitant to approach her. "Reginae, Queen of Alithrya. This is political business, I'd appreciate your discretion on this matter." Yes, throwing ice cream and getting into marketplace brawls that end in kidnapping are indeed Alithrya politics. Recently, anyway. "I will, of course, pay for damages." The guards look at each other with growing confusion as she tsks the problem away with a satchel of coins that appeared from thin air. "I'll draft a report and submit it to the city." Blah blah, she wouldn't do that. She just needed to get them to a safe place. Cocky as ever, she bends down to lift Gorehilt's spear with her very normal human looking fingers and prop it against her shoulder. She's going to need a bigger palace at this rate.